


Thinking Pawsitive

by Protecttonystark



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2020-08-23 07:40:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20239177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Protecttonystark/pseuds/Protecttonystark
Summary: No-powers AU, featuring winteriron (pre-slash) and dogs!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I could not get this AU out of my head once I read it, so here goes! I am debating turning this into a series vs a multi-chapter, but for now enjoy!

Based on the [absolutely incredible post here by aurumacadicus](https://aurumacadicus.tumblr.com/post/182647640895/a-very-important-no-powers-idea-i-just-had-the)!

* * *

The dog park has become something of a Thing for Bucky. He’d been reluctant at first, when Stevie had broached the idea of getting him out of his apartment that was ‘too goddamn small, Buck, and always so  _ dark _ , you need some sunlight’, but he had known even as he’d protested that it would be futile. Steve had that mulish set to his jaw, and the sly look in his eye that said he was going to do what was best for Bucky no matter who tried to stand in his way. And Bucky always claimed to resent that righteous fire, but he never could help the fond grin that crept its way onto his face, so it tended to lose any kind of heat.

The first few times Bucky had met Steve’s friends had been--well, awkward probably summed it up nicely. Nothing catastrophic happened, and the weather had been nice and the dogs running around absolutely  _ adorable _ , but Bucky still couldn’t help feeling out of place. Like he didn’t belong here, in this place of joy and sunshine, among these friendly,  _ unbroken  _ people. But his therapist and Steve had both been nagging at him to ‘combat negative thinking patterns’, so he tried his best to smile--or at least, to not appear as though he were about to pass the fuck out--and pretend like being in such an open space was  _ not  _ making his skin crawl. 

And after a few months, things actually started getting better. It helped that Steve’s friends ( _ our friends _ , as Steve kept reminding him) were good about giving him space. They always said hello, their body language open and welcoming should he want to join in, but letting him be the one to begin any conversations. It was nice not to feel pressured, like he was doing everything  _ wrong  _ by choosing to lurk along the edges of the fence to pet all the dogs instead of engaging in their friendly arguments. Made it a lot easier to, slowly, creep closer to the group, start throwing in a comment or two, rag on Stevie like they were kids again, like it was before all the fucking  _ baggage _ . And, slowly, he actually got to know them. Got to know that Sam put every single piece of his heart and soul into his job, that Scott bragged on his daughter  _ at least  _ once every single conversation, that Natasha seemed to know at least a little bit about absolutely any topic under the sun, and that Clint used to be an honest to god carnie.

He learned the little things about them, too. Sam could juggle, but was usually only convinced to demonstrate after a few drinks. Scott knew how to do card tricks, and would whip out a deck at any time, anywhere. Natasha was one of the most graceful dancers he’d ever seen, and also had a right hook that he witnessed knock a grown man the fuck out. Clint, in addition to knowing how to unicycle, enjoyed knitting. And, somewhere in the midst of all this, he went from seeing these people once a week at the dog park to going with Steve to meet them for dinner or drinks during the week, to genuinely enjoying participating daily in their absolute godamn mess of a group chat. 

So he feels like he’s entitled to a little bit of nerves when Natasha announces out of the blue one night that she’s inviting one of her friends to Dog Park Saturday. He is glad, though, that he’s not the only one who feels a tad put out, judging by Clint’s scowl and Scott’s cry of dismay.

“I dunno,” Steve is cautious, because everyone knows how fiercely Natasha will defend her friends if she feels they’ve been slighted, “you told me Tony’s an asshole.”

Natasha simply shrugs, taking a sip of her beer, “so what? I told him the same thing about you.”

Bucky can’t help snorting a laugh at Steve’s incredulously offended look. 

“Et tu, Bucky?”

“Stevie, those little puppy eyes didn’t work when you were a scrawny little eight year old, they’re  _ definitely  _ not gonna work now. Asshole.”

The group knows them well enough at this point to grab their drinks off the table lest they be knocked to the floor in the ensuing scuffle. It’s a little harder to wrestle in a tiny booth when they’re both grown adults than it was when they were kids, but, hey, they make it work. 

“So,” Sam turns to the rest of the group as Bucky and Steve try to put each other in headlocks, “who is this mysterious Tony guy, anyway? And how come we’ve never met him?”

“ _ Oh _ , is he your  _ boyfriend _ ?”

Scott’s question is almost drowned out by Steve’s squeal of outrage as Bucky manages to stick a cold, wet finger in his ear. Bucky figures Natasha must have heard him well enough, though, since he catches her throw an ice cube in Scott’s face.

“No, he’s not my boyfriend, idiots. I met him when I temped for his company, years ago. You’ve never met him because he spends too much time working and usually ignores me when I tell him he should stop. Also, he’s shy, so be nice to him”

Clint throws his arms up, “what the hell, why are you looking right at  _ me _ ?”

Bucky sits up, smiling in victory as Steve finally taps the table, “because you don’t know how to behave in polite society.”

Clint sticks his tongue out, blowing a raspberry in Bucky’s direction, “as if any of you guys do. Last week Steve at a fucking worm.”

“Hey!” Steve looks  _ way  _ more indignant than someone who willingly ate a worm out of a mud puddle should, in Bucky’s opinion, “Sam dared me to, what was I supposed to do?”

“I did not! No, I did not,” he throws a wadded up napkin Steve’s way as he tries to interrupt, “ _ Bucky  _ told you he bet you wouldn’t, and when  _ I  _ said, ‘Steve, you’re a grown man, do not eat a worm you found on the ground’, you literally said the words, ‘you’re not my mother, you can’t tell me what to do’ and fucking ate it. Like an insane person, Steve, that’s something an  _ insane  _ person does.”

“Whatever, it wasn’t even that bad. It just tasted like dirt.”

Bucky smacked the side of his head, laughing, “yeah, well most of us don’t eat fucking dirt, either, you dumbass.” 

This, of course, sparks another wrestling match in the booth, and somehow between that and Scott later demonstrating how to tie a knot in a cherry stem with his tongue, Bucky sort of forgets to be nervous about adding an unknown to this good thing he has here.

  
  
  
  
  


Of course, he remembers all those nerves real damn quick when it’s suddenly the next morning and he’s sitting on the ground with Sam’s lab, Cheddar, cuddled up against his chest. He’s trying to watch out for newcomers while also trying to look like he’s not about to have a panic attack. Judging by the concerned looks Steve and Sam keep shooting his way, he’s not doing a very good job of that second part, but in his defense it’s been a while since he had to figure out how to talk to someone new, and Tony is obviously important to Natasha, what if he decides he hates Bucky, what if he makes Natasha realize she hates Bucky, too, what if everyone realizes what a fucking mess he is and decides they’re so much better if he doesn’t come anymore oh god what if--

“You okay, Buck?” 

He jumps, but as pathetic as it makes him feel he’s proud that he doesn’t scream as Steve plops himself down next to him. 

“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Steve shrugs, and as casual as he looks Bucky knows he’s observing from the corner of his eye, “I just know sometimes big changes make you kind’a nervous. Natasha should have told us sooner that he’d be comi--”

“For fuck’s sake, Steve, Natasha doesn’t need my goddamn  _ permission  _ to invite her friend to a fucking dog park.”

He hates the silence that follows, hates the way he snaps and snarls any time Steve is just trying to look out for him. So he stares down at his hands clutching Cheddar’s back and pretends like the idea of meeting another person doesn’t make him so damn  _ scared _ .

“Look, Bucky, I’m sorry, I didn--” he’s cut off as Natasha runs over to the gate, waving at someone parking what is by far  _ the  _ nicest car Bucky has ever seen in his life. 

When the guy--Tony, Bucky assumes--steps out, he’s dressed in a suit that Bucky is guessing ie every bit as expensive as that fucking car, complete with matching sunglasses despite the overcast day. By the time he gets his dog out--an impeccably groomed poodle, because  _ of course _ \--the pit in Bucky’s stomach seems to have grown by about ten fold. 

He takes a small bit of comfort in the fact that he’s clearly not the only one dreading the meeting, judging by the way Steve stiffens beside him, Scott shooting unsure looks between Natasha and Tony, while Sam catches Bucky’s gaze and rolls his eyes. Clint seems to be the only one not sizing up the newcomer, but that’s only because he’s engaged in a tug of war with Lucky and is therefore not paying even a little attention to any of the rest of them. 

Bucky sees Tony talking animatedly as he walks down the sidewalk towards the gate, and he remembers what Natasha said about the guy spending too much time on work. It wouldn’t be the first time they had to spend an afternoon listening to someone bark orders into a bluetooth while they completely ignored their poor dog, and Bucky can’t help but feel a flare of irritation alongside the anxiety. Why the hell did Natasha think this was a good idea?

Once Tony steps through the gate into the park, though, Bucky’s able to hear what he’s saying and he immediately feels like a massive asshole. Because Tony’s not talking on a bluetooth, he’s apparently talking to his dog, his voice so soft and patient Bucky almost feels a tiny bit better just by proxy. 

He watches as Tony kneels down just inside the entrance, apparently not worried about the dirt on his pants, running his hands over the poodle’s head and scratching under her chin as he unclips her lead, “all right, Fri-baby, this is it. Don’t look so scared, you’re gonna do great! See, all these dogs are playing together, they all look  _ so _ nice. And, look! You’re like the tallest one here, so if anything  _ they  _ should be intimidated by  _ you _ . Besides, you know I’d never take you  _ anywhere  _ that wasn’t safe, right? So, come on, let’s make some friends today, okay?”

Bucky knows it’s ridiculous, but he finds almost just a little choked up as he listens to Tony give his dog a pep talk. It’s just--his voice is so soothing, and his hands are so gentle as they scratch his dog behind her ears, like she’s just the most precious thing in the world, and Bucky feels pathetic and stupid for even thinking it but he can’t help thinking it must be so nice to feel so treasured, so protected, to be held and cradled like something beautiful and  _ special _ .

Bucky manages to shake himself out of his melancholy, at least for the moment, watching as Tony finally stands, making a gesture that Bucky assumes is meant to convince his dog to come out from where she’s huddled behind his legs. His dog, for her part, presses just a little closer against the back of her knees, although she does stretch her head up to allow Natasha to scratch her ears. 

“So,  _ fragolina _ , are you going to introduce me to your super secret club, or are Friday and I just here to look pretty?”

“You know me,  _ solnyshko _ , I was in such desperate need of a little bit of eye candy to brighten up this dreary day.”

“Riiight,” and despite the fact that he can’t actually see Tony’s eyes underneath the glasses, Bucky can  _ hear  _ the eyeroll, “because this veritable buffet of heavily muscled men rolled out before you just wasn’t enough, huh?” 

That tone of voice is oozing sarcasm hard enough that Bucky’s a bit surprised that it’s not physically leaking out of Tony’s pores, but Bucky also notes that Tony’s gripping the dog’s-- _ Friday’s _ \--leash hard enough that his knuckles are white, and he still has yet to actually acknowledge any of them besides Natasha. He thinks of Natasha telling them ‘ _ he’s shy, so be nice’,  _ and thinks that maybe Tony’s not shy like Scott--nervous and stumbling over his words when he tries to make small talk. Maybe he’s shy like Bucky--absolutely goddamn  _ terrified _ of having to interact with people he doesn’t know. Maybe, Bucky muses, that little pep talk about making new friends wasn’t just to bump up Friday’s confidence. 

“Tony, please, for the love of god do not stoke their egos, they’re insufferable enough as it is.” 

Tony is cut off by whatever remark he was in the middle of making as Clint seemingly turns around for the first time and notices the newcomer.

“Who the fuck is this guy?” 

Before Bucky can inform Clint that,  _ hey, ‘this guy’ is Natasha’s friend and she specifically instructed us to be nice to him, and also he loves his dog and, gosh, he’s got the most entrancing smile I’ve ever seen in my life and I want to see more of it, please don’t make him upset,  _ Tony’s face splits into a wide grin. Which, Bucky thinks--thanking God and any other nearby entities that he  _ didn’t  _ actually say what he was thinking--might be the first time someone has responded positively to Clint blurting shit out.

“Let me guess--you’re Clint, right?”

“Asshole extraordinaire,” Natasha confirms with a smile, flipping a middle finger up at Clint when he flings a clump of dirt her way. 

Tony laughs--a sound which does not in any way set Bucky’s heart pounding any more than it already was, no sir, no weird infatuation forming over here--turning to scan still hidden eyes over the rest of their group.

“Are you guys seriously going to make me guess the rest of your names? I mean, I know it’s been a while since I met new people, but I’m  _ pretty  _ sure that’s weird.”

Steve, of course, is the first to stand, holding one big hand out to Tony--which just serves to emphasize to Bucky just how  _ small  _ Tony is, and Bucky thinks something in his chest might be melting a little bit.

“Steve Rogers.”

Tony seems skeptical at first, and Bucky thinks he might be the only one besides Natasha who noticed the very slight flinch when Steve brought his hand up, but slowly Tony grips the offered hand.

“Uh, Tony Stark. Sorry, I didn’t think real people still shook hands.”

“Real people?” Steve asks, at the same time as Natasha pats Tony’s shoulder and says, “Steve’s old fashioned.”

“Everyone knows board members aren’t  _ people _ ,” Tony says casually, “they’re just crusty old vampires who don’t have the decency to lock themselves up in a coffin and give everyone else a break.”

Bucky snorts a laugh at that, and he’s not sure if he’s more surprised by the sound, or if Steve is. Tony, for his part, looks like he could not possibly be more delighted.

“Oh, who’re you? I like you already, we’re gonna get along, I can tell.” 

He can see Steve getting ready to introduce him, and usually, Bucky would be happy to sit back and let Steve do the heavy lifting when it came to interactions. But, well, Bucky likes Tony--at least so far--and as much as he would be loathe to admit it had anyone asked he can’t help the thrill he feels at Tony’s _I like you_ _already_, so he takes a deep breath and hurdles over the anxiety that is always so eager to rear up and smother him.

Or, at least, he tries to hurdle--or leap, or spring, or really any sort of movement that implies  _ action  _ and  _ confidence _ \--but what comes out is a too loud gasp of an inhale followed by a quiet, hoarse, “Bucky.”

Bucky  _ knows  _ his face is red right now, and he is very studiously avoiding looking at Steve--or any of the rest of them, really--because he can’t handle seeing the surprise that he was able to do something as stupidly simple as say his own damn name, can’t handle that obsessive need to check for the  _ pity  _ his anxiety is always so very pleased to tell him must be hiding underneath the sympathetic gazes.

Tony, for his part, just smiles and nods like nothing at all is wrong, “awesome. Well, Bucky, you clearly have a sense of humor that is superior to most, so kudos on that.” Bucky can’t help another soft laugh at that, and Tony looks so very pleased with himself for bringing it out of him.

“So,” Tony continues, “since you’ve made such an impression I promise not to steal your dog and take him home with me, even though he’s adorable and I love him.”

“Cheddar’s mine, actually,” Sam steps forward with a wave and a laugh, “although I’d still be grateful if you didn’t take him with you. I’m Sam, by the way.” 

Tony gasps, hands covering his mouth, “his name is  _ Cheddar _ !? Oh my god, oh my  _ god _ ,” Tony’s hands move to lay over his chest, “that’s so fucking cute, I love you, Cheddar.”

Scott is the next to step up, hefting up his dog--a friendly Shih-tzu mix that showed a no-fear attitude that belonged on a dog ten times its size--”I’m Scott, and this is Chewie--um, short for Chewbarka--and w-”

Scott is cut off by Tony’s long wail as he covers his face, bending over at the waist. Bucky--and the rest of them, judging by the shocked expressions--is more than a little concerned, but Natasha just laughs, rolling her eyes.

“You named your dog  _ Chewbarka _ !?” 

Scott nods, a little unsure, but steps forward, “would you--do you wanna hold him?”

Tony gasps, soft and reverent, nodding silently and holding his arms out. Scott gently transfers Chewie over, who immediately lunges forward and begins to cover Tony’s face in frantic, slobbery kisses, knocking his glasses off his face.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry, I should have warned you--”

Tony, however, couldn’t look happier. His eyes are squeezed shut as Chewie licks every inch of his face, and Bucky can’t help but notice that his nose scrunches up in a  _ very  _ sweet way. Tony laughs, letting Chewie go hog wild for another thirty seconds before finally pulling him away, holding him up at eye level.

“Chewie, I would fucking  _ die  _ for you.”

And, holy shit, Bucky thought Tony’s smile was gorgeous? Well, to be fair, Bucky thinks, it  _ is _ \--but, now that Bucky can see Tony’s eyes, he’s actually feeling a little bit breathless. Bucky’s heard the phrase ‘doe-eyes’ before, but he feels like he’s never seen such a perfect example. Tony’s eyes are big and brown, with gently curling eyelashes that Bucky’s pretty sure some women would literally kill for, and they are shining with pure joy and a look that is so fucking sweet and soft Bucky almost can’t handle it. No wonder Tony came wearing sunglasses, Bucky thinks a little dazedly, those eyes are a public safety concern, people could get well and truly  _ lost  _ in them. 

Tony brings Chewie back in tight against his chest, trying to control his wiggling as best as he can with one hand as he uses the other to scratch the top of Friday’s head--who is apparently feeling more than a little jealous watching Tony fawn over another dog. Bucky feels like he can sympathize. If he had Tony’s attention locked on him all the time, and suddenly had it shifted to someone else, he’s pretty sure he’d fucking riot. 

And so, the afternoon passes. By the time the group has to part ways, Tony is out of breath from letting Cheddar and Friday chase him from one end of the park to the other, and covered in mud from letting an ecstatic Lucky and Bear, Steve’s feisty chiweenie, team up to wrestle him to the ground. 

“All right, I’ll admit, you were  _ maybe  _ right when you said this was a good idea.”

Natasha grants Tony a smug smile and a peck on the cheek, “of course I was, I’m  _ always  _ right.”

Tony snorts at that, flapping a hand dismissively, “whatever, I’m still not doing yoga with you.” Bucky has a sudden flash of Tony bent in a yoga pose that he is honestly not sure is physically possible but  _ is  _ incredibly distracting. 

“Anyway,” Tony continues, startling a very guilty Bucky from that lovely image, “thank you gentlemen for letting me crash your little party, and especially for letting me pet all your dogs. Come on, Fri-baby, we gotta jet--oh, okay, come on up.”

Friday, who had been laying at Tony’s feet with the saddest expression Bucky had ever seen on an animal’s face, sprang up at Tony’s invitation. Tony bent his knees just a little, grabbing the poodle around her waist and hefting her up, letting her rest her paws on his shoulder as he held her like a very furry, overgrown baby.

“All right, well, I’ve got’ta get the princess home. I’ll see you later, Tasha.”

Natasha frowned, just slightly, as Tony turned to leave, “are you going to come ba--”

“Yes, yes,” Tony waved an impatient hand as he struggled to open the gate without dropping Friday, “I’ll be back next weekend, you lot have won me over through the power of your absolutely perfect canine companions and I will now happily drink the kool-aid.”

Tony walks down the sidewalk to a chorus of ‘see ya’ and ‘nice meeting you’, and as the others start coralling their own dogs, Bucky lets Steve hand him Bear’s leash and contemplates if he’s looking forward to a chance to see Tony again, or dreading the chance to make an enormous fool of himself in front of someone he likes. 

It’s a little bit of an odd feeling, but he kind of thinks he might be more excited than nervous, and he allows himself a small but genuine smile as he lets the familiar sound of Sam and Steve bickering over where to order dinner wrap comfortably around him. 

  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky doesn't typically like surprises, but when they involve Tony--well, he might be able to make an exception.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I'm not sure how I feel about this--I suck at endings, y'all, I'm never happy with how I close a chapter--BUT I've had it in my drafts for way too long so I'm getting it out! There's probably going to be at least one more chapter, but I adore this AU and I really can't get it out of my head so it may go longer than that. In the meantime, enjoy soft sweet winteriron and soft sweet kitties!

Bucky knows Natasha can be a little--_ unconventional _when it comes to her views and adherence of little things like laws. So as he watches her pull what he knows is a lockpick from her pocket to start working on the door in front of them, he tries to figure out if he should have known this is what she meant when she texted him the day before.

“Natasha, you said we were visiting Tony.”

She shoots a curious look over her shoulder as the lock clicks over, as though he’s being particularly dense, “yeah? What do you think we’re doing right now?”

“Um, breaking and entering?”

Natasha snorts a laugh as she stands, turning from him and opening the door as casually as if she hadn’t just _ picked the goddamn lock _, “don’t be so fucking dramatic, does it look like I broke anything? Besides, I keep telling him to get better locks on his front door, I’m really just proving my point.”

He winces at the alarm that starts up, but follows Natasha as she strides in. Natasha drove him, so it’s not like he can just turn around and leave, right? Besides, Natasha knows Tony, Bucky doesn’t. At the very least, it’s probably better to stick with her and--hopefully--let her take most of the heat when they inevitably get in deep shit for this, rather than wander around on his own.

“You need to calm down, you look like you’re about to pass out.”

Natasha finds what Bucky guesses is the panel for the alarm easily, punching in a code that is evidently not the right one, judging by the fact that the alarm continues. Instead of looking the least bit concerned, she has the gall to look _ amused _, taking a moment to think before entering a different set of numbers that does, thankfully, cut the alarm.

However, as the shrieking of the alarm dies down, Bucky hears a long, low growling behind him. He turns slowly, spotting the black poodle slinking towards him, hackles raised and teeth bared. Bucky’s met Friday a few times-always occasions in which she was nothing but soft, sweet, and as charming as her owner--so he has no clue what he could do to defuse her obvious anger and, ideally, avoid having his throat ripped out.

Thankfully, before Bucky tries anything, Natasha steps from behind him, holding a hand out for Friday to sniff, “at ease, Friday, he’s with me.”

To Bucky’s surprise, that actually works. Friday comes over to Natasha, still shooting Bucky _ the _most suspicious glare he’s ever seen on a dog’s face, but at least not growling any longer as she lets Natasha stroke through the curls on her back.

“Come on, _ milaya devushka _, let’s get you a snack.”

Friday’s ears instantly perk up at this, and she trots happily into what Bucky can see is the kitchen, having apparently decided that Bucky must not be a threat if he’s come with someone offering food.

Bucky reluctantly follows Natasha through the doorway, watching as she takes a tub of dog treats out of the cabinet. She’s clearly familiar with the layout of Tony’s home, and seems to be well known and liked by his dog, but--

“This is weird, right?”

“What, Friday? Well, yeah, I guess it seems like she’s overly susceptible to bribery, but trust me, if I weren’t here with you she’d most definitely be fucking you up right now. She takes security seriously. Because she’s such a good girl, isn’t she?”

The last statement was directed at Friday, who’s entire body was practically vibrating as she rolled onto her back, wriggling in joy as Natasha knelt to rub her belly, cooing _ good girl, good, good girl _.

Bucky was almost--_ almost _\--distracted by how goddamn cute that was, but quickly remembered why he was so upset at the moment.

“No, I wasn--_ Natasha _ !” And, wow, he must really sound freaked out, if the concerned looks Natasha _ and _ Friday immediately give him are any indication, “we’re trespassing! You said we were coming to _ visit _ Tony, not--did you even tell him we’d be here?”

“You _ really _need to calm down.” Natasha’s features smooth back into amusement as she stands, so she’s evidently still not taking this as seriously as Bucky feels the situation warrants. “Yes, I told him yesterday I was coming. It’s not my fault he never bothers to remember things like that. He told me he’d be home all day today, so I can guarantee that means he’s down in his workshop right now, which is why he didn’t hear us come in. Besides,” she turned with a smile, heading to open another door across the hallway, “in the bizarre event he does actually get mad, I’m the one he’ll yell at. Seriously, take a deep breath before you start hyperventilating.”

Bucky opens his mouth to snap back--whether to insist _ yet again _ that they get the fuck out until they’re invited or to defend his rapid breaths as perfectly normal given the situation, he’s not sure--but he has to take a second to stop and marvel at what is apparently some _ very _impressive sound proofing on the door Natasha swings open. He can understand now why Tony wouldn’t have heard them, and Bucky can’t help but cover his own ears as he follows Natasha down the stairs. He’s not really good with loud noises, and the music blasting up from what looks to be some sort of garage-turned-workshop is powerful enough that Bucky swears his damn bones are vibrating.

He jumps as something rushes past him down the stairs, calming down a little as he spots Friday’s furry head darting past Natasha and around the corner to, he presumes, alert Tony to the fact that he’s got visitors. Bucky considers, briefly, whether he could get away with just camping out on the stairs while Natasha completes her bizarre ambush. Tony hasn’t seen him, and he _ very _ clearly can’t hear him--if Natasha could be cool _ for once _ and not point him out, it just might work. He just really, _ really _ doesn’t want Tony to be pissed. Natasha said it was fine, but maybe she’s wrong, maybe it’s fine for _ Natasha _to be here but Tony’s going to be really, really mad that Bucky came, too, maybe Tony will think he’s rude or a freak and he’ll never get to talk to Tony again or see the way his eyes light up or--

_ Get it together, Barnes _ . Holy shit, Natasha was right, he really _ does _ need to calm down and make an effort to corral his thoughts before he has a full blown panic attack on the middle of the goddamn staircase. At the _ very _least, he should probably go back up to the kitchen or something if he’s going to freak the fuck out.

He’s about to turn around, to either wait for Natasha upstairs or just fucking book it and hope for the best, when he hears the music blaring from the workshop go silent--followed almost immediately by a shriek and the sound of _ something _ heavy and metal hitting the ground. He jumps down the remaining stairs before he’s aware of making that decision, eyes scanning the room for threats. He spots Natasha standing over Tony, and Bucky’s concerned to see him laying flat on his back, but Natasha’s laughing and Tony’s cussing loud enough to wake the dead, so Bucky figures he’s _ probably _not seriously injured?

“--_ fuck’s _ sake, Natasha, seriously, would it kill you to use a goddamn doorbell for once in your fucking life? Just _ once _?”

Natasha has the audacity to roll her eyes, waving a hand dismissively, “like it would have helped, you can’t hear shit down here, anyway.”

Tony glared up at her, arms crossed over his chest, “I have a _ heart condition _ , Tasha, you could have _ killed me _.”

“Are you okay?” And, oh, okay, apparently Bucky’s mouth decided it wanted to be part of this conversation without consulting the rest of his brain first. He tries not to flinch _ too _ visibly as two sets of eyes snap over to look at him. Natasha’s mouth quirks up in the little grin that means she’s at least somewhat surprised by something, for once, but pleased with it, and Tony--Tony suddenly looks _ way _ more excited than Bucky feels his presence warrants, but goddamn those big brown eyes positively _ light up _, and Bucky decides right there and then that coming with Natasha against his better judgement was in fact one of the best decisions he’s ever made.

“It’s Bucky!” Tony sits up, flashing a smile so bright Bucky can’t help grinning back. He looks over at Natasha just in time to see her smirking at Tony, offering a hand to help him stand. Which Tony promptly swats away, sticking his tongue out for good measure.

“Fuck off, I’m still not happy to see _ you _.”

Natasha puts one hand on her hip, the other pointing back over her shoulder to where Bucky is trying to find a way to stand that doesn’t seem quite so much like _ lurking _ , “what the fuck, I’m the one that _ brought _ him.”

Tony narrows his eyes, “hmmm, fine. But you’re on thin ice. Asshole.”

“I can live with that. Bastard.”

Tony laughs, and--just like every other occasion in which Bucky has been lucky enough to hear Tony laugh--the sound sets off the butterflies in Bucky’s stomach. Which is ridiculous, he’s a _ grown man _, for fuck’s sake, he should be over having crushes like some kind of teenager, but his heart continues to race and his palms continue to sweat, so apparently his body hasn’t gotten that particular memo.

“So, Terminator, did you come to my house just to glare at my half finished projects?”

Tony’s voice startles him out of his thoughts, and he realizes he has, in fact, been staring quite intently at the mess of what looks to him like scrap and wire covering the table in front of him. He can feel himself blush, feels his palms start to sweat for a different reason because _ fuck _, he knows he must look like such a fucking idiot and he doesn’t know how to stop.

“Um, I--no?” He swears he hadn’t meant that to sound like a question, and he wishes, not for the first time, that he could pause this interaction that he’s so wonderfully fucking up and kick his own ass.

Tony just smiles, though, the same smile Bucky always sees him giving to Natasha, teasing but soft around the edges, and Bucky finds himself relaxing just the smallest bit because he can’t find any trace of pity or derision in the expression. Tony’s good at that, Bucky has noticed, treating Bucky like he’s actually managing to interact like a normal human being.

“Oh, don’t feel bad, they deserve to be glared at. I’ve been simply _ slaving _away over them, and they still refuse to work like they’re supposed to. Ungrateful, all of them.”

And, honestly, Tony just looks so wonderfully, dramatically offended, sitting on the floor with one arm thrown across his face, that Bucky can’t help but laugh. Which, as always, makes Tony grin right back at him, looking pleased with himself in a way Bucky doesn’t see him around the others--although, Bucky can admit to himself, that might just be his damn crush-clouded brain making Tony look so soft and affectionate.

Before Bucky can figure out a way to respond that _ won’t _ be obviously, ridiculously besotted, a loud, squawking ‘mrrr _ rrrRRRROOOOOOW! _ ’ echoes throughout the room, startling Bucky enough to jump. He twirls around, fully expecting to see something big and unpleasant barreling up behind him. Instead he see-- _ something _ small but clearly enthusiastic bouncing its way over. Bucky’s mind at first supplies him very unhelpfully with _ some kind of fucked up rat? _ , before he registers that the creature is, in fact, a small, hairless, and three legged cat. It hops right over to Bucky, standing on its two back legs with its one front leg braced on his knee as it once again lets out a strange, yodeling noise that seems _ way _too loud to be coming from something so small.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, knock that off, Dummy!” Bucky has half a second to be hurt in a baffled sort of way before he realizes that, okay, Tony is in fact talking to the cat. “Why are you naked, huh? Do you _ want _ to freeze to death. Does pneumonia sound _ appealing _to you?”

Tony has finally stood, crossing the room to stand next to him, hands on his hips and a look of disappointment on his face that isn’t quite enough to mask the affection that’s just oozing out of him as he stands over the cat. The cat, for its part, chirps up at Tony, looking entirely unrepentant. Tony shakes a finger at it before turning to open a drawer in the table, rummaging around for a moment before turning back around with a small, knitted sweater.

“So help me, Dummy, you’re gonna keep this one on, or I’m gonna let the vet scrap you for whatever useful organs you still have left.” The cat yowls, and even Bucky--who’s been in the presence of maybe three cats in his entire life--can tell that it’s very clearly argumentative. Tony scowls, darting forward and grabbing the cat, just barely managing to hold on as it wriggles around in his arms. And, goddamnit, Bucky can’t help it--he laughs, loud and full, surprising himself just as much as Natasha, who he can just barely see whirling her head around from where she’s sat playing tug of war with Friday.

“Did you--did you seriously name your cat _ Dummy _?”

Tony huffs a laugh, victoriously holding up the scrawny little thing, which is wearing the pink dotted sweater with _ such _a grumpy, petulant look on its face that Bucky can’t help laughing again.

“Don’t kid yourself, he _ earned _this name. Isn’t that right, Tasha?”

Natasha nods, smiling as she lets Friday pull the toy out of her hands, “I’m afraid he does live up to it. You know what that’s short for, right?”

Bucky shakes his head, a smile still tugging on his lips as Tony rolls his eyes, “it’s short for Dumbass. A name which, again, is very much suited to him. Isn’t that right?”

Tony rubs the cat behind the ears, and it--_ he, _ Bucky corrects himself, because he knew it was rude to refer to something so clearly loved as _ it _ \--he started a purr that didn’t sound like a finely tuned engine so much as a diesel truck on its last legs. Bucky reaches one hesitant hand out--he doesn’t know very many cats, and he can’t think of a single time he’s encountered one without any fur--but is interrupted by a hissing growl from the table to his right. He whips his head around, coming face to face with yet another cat--this one a black one with short hair, long and lean and looking somehow _ refined _in a way Bucky’s not sure he could explain. Before he can react, Tony’s thrusting Dummy into his arms and snagging the new, angry cat off the table.

“Cut it out, Jarvis. Honestly, you let Tasha strut around here like she owns the damn place, but you decide to show up and terrorize poor Bucky? I swear, between you and Dummy--this is exactly why we can’t have nice things.”

Bucky’s only half listening to Tony rant as Jarvis gracefully winds himself up and around to perch on Tony’s shoulders, still glaring at Bucky in a way that manages to convey how close he is to leaping forward and taking the eyes right out of Bucky’s face. And Bucky should be afraid, he knows, but he’s more than a little preoccupied with the armful of cat he’s suddenly found himself with. As much as Dummy had wiggled with Tony, he seems remarkably content to simply lay in Bucky’s arm like a warm sack of potatoes. Bucky’s sort of scared he’s gonna drop him, and also sort of weirded out by him in general, but. Well, Dummy’s staring up at Bucky with something that looks a little like adoration, and he’s still purring that loud, rusty purr, so Bucky carefully shifts him over to one arm, lifting the other to gently run his fingers over the cat’s head.

Dummy immediately closes his eyes, pushing his head up into Bucky’s palm in clear approval, and Bucky huffs a soft laugh, smiling down at the cat despite his nerves. He finds that Dummy feels, well, _ odd _ , but not in a bad way, like he was expecting. He’d honestly been expecting Dummy to feel like a raw chicken breast, cold and maybe even a little slimy, but instead finds that he’s soft and warm, with just a little bit of fuzz. Sort of like if someone left a peach on the windowsill, Bucky muses, moving his hand to scratch Dummy behind the ears like he’d seen Tony do. Bucky realizes, as he thinks of Tony, that the room has suddenly gone very, very quiet. He looks up, finding Tony staring at him with an expression that could be called wonder. And, _ hoo boy _ , Bucky thought Tony couldn’t get any more beautiful, but looking at those wide eyes, soft with an emotion Bucky isn’t sure he understands, his mouth open a little as though in surprise, and just a touch of red tinting his cheeks--well, Bucky finds himself wishing that he had Steve’s ability to draw, because he wants so badly to commit the way Tony looks right now to paper, or _ something _, something to make sure he never forgets it.

He feels oddly breathless, watching Tony watch him, an intense feeling spreading through his chest that he _ swears _should be uncomfortable, but is instead warm and so, so inviting, and Bucky wants so badly to--

Friday barks, high and irritated, glaring at Natasha, who has apparently abandoned their game in favor of staring at Bucky and Tony, and just like that Bucky feels like a spell’s been broken. He twitches just a little in surprise, noting the way Tony’s hand comes up to rest briefly in the middle of his chest as he jumps--_ heart condition, he said he has a heart condition, didn’t he?-- _before he’s turning away, fidgeting with the metal and wire littering the table.

“Brats, all of you,” he says, reaching absentmindedly to scratch Jarvis beneath the chin as the cat butts his head against his cheek, “I’m surrounded by a pack of rotten brats, I swear I--”

He cuts off at the soft, tinkling sound of something scraping against the floor, accompanied by something that to Bucky sounds an awful lot like...chewing?

“Oh, for--what are you eating? Hey, _ hey _! Get out here right now, what the fuck are you eating?”

Bucky watches Tony stride across the room, only a little surprised when he hears a brief scuffle, followed by yet another cat racing across the floor, something shiny glinting in his mouth.

“Hey, spit that out, goddamnit, I mean it!” Tony is hot on the cat’s heels, the two of them running a brief circle around another table in the middle of the room before Tony manages to snag him, hoisting him up and digging what turns out to be a long piece of wire attached to some piece of metal from his mouth. “Are you kidding me? Seriously, Butterfingers, are you fucking _ kidding _me. Between you and Dummy, I swear, if you two could stop actively trying to destroy yourselves, that would be great.”

Bucky snickers, getting a better look at this new cat, which is chubby in a way that Bucky can’t decide is fat or just fur, his ears curled inward at the tip and his--_ wait _.

“Where, um. Does he not have--”

“Eyes?” Tony interrupts, finally relenting to Butterfinger’s wiggling and letting him jump down to the floor and scamper away. “No, he had a godawful infection when he was a kitten, and they decided it was safest for him if they just took ‘em out.” Tony says it so casually, like it’s no big deal, but he must see Bucky’s shocked expression because he laughs, shaking his head, “seriously, it’s okay, he’s fine. He looks a little funny--or, I mean, I guess he doesn’t _ look _ at all,” and, god, Tony looks so pleased with that joke that Bucky can’t help but laugh, “but he’s totally good. Hell, you saw him, the biggest trouble I have with him is he wants to eat anything and everything that has the possibility of killing him. And he knocks down _ absolutely _ everything, which I goddamn _ know _is only on accident half the time.”

“Hence the name?” Bucky ventures a guess, still smiling as he rubs the back of Dummy’s neck.

“Exactly. See, you get it.” Tony looks over to Natasha, gesturing to Bucky, “he gets it! Why have you been keeping him from me all this time?”

Bucky ducks his head at that, more pleased than he wants to admit right then, just in time to see yet another big, bright pair of eyes glancing up at him from beneath a table. This time, though, the eyes seem cautious, just a bit concerned, and he has a hard time getting a good look at whatever it is those eyes are attached to. Natasha sees him peering under the table, Tony distracted by a mass of wire that Bucky once again couldn’t even have guessed the purpose of, and she smiles as she cranes her neck, standing to approach the table. Friday huffs her displeasure at losing Natasha’s attention, padding over to Tony to press against his leg, tail thumping the ground as he reaches one hand down absent mindedly to rub behind her ear.

Natasha squats down, reaching one hand out invitation. “Hey, You. I was wondering where you were hiding, sweet girl.” Bucky’s a little surprised at how gentle Natasha’s voice is, and he steps closer, curious as to what had so captured her attention, “come on out, darling, it’s okay.” Natasha’s smile widens as a cat slowly creeps out from under the table, peering over at Bucky as though assessing the risk, and Bucky feels his throat tighten just a little because, _ god _, does he ever know that feeling. The cat--white with gray spots, and long hair that looks soft even from where Bucky’s standing--must trust Natasha, because she slinks all the way out, rubbing against Natasha before allowing herself to be picked up. Once she’s in Natasha’s arms, she sprawls out, going soft and boneless with a purr that’s quieter and much more gentle than Dummy’s motor boat of a purr.

“That’s my girl,” Natasha coos, running gentle fingers through the cat’s fur. She sees Bucky watching and smiles, “You is shy. She doesn’t like loud noises--probably got scared by all that squawking of your Daddy’s, huh, baby?” At that, Tony lifts one hand to flip Natasha the bird, but he can’t hide the smile as he does it.

“Oh, don’t let her fool you, Bucky. You might be a princess, but she’s a _ warrior _ princess. Tough as nails, ain’t that right, sweetheart?” Tony walks over to drop a kiss to the top of You’s head, You closing her eyes in a way that is so clearly happy and loving that Bucky feels something in his chest clench, just a little bit.

Tony snorts a laugh as he sees Bucky cradling Dummy against his chest, “you know, you don’t have to hold him. He likes to act helpless when it suits him, but you can definitely put him down whenever you want.”

Bucky smiles down at Dummy--partly because the little guy really was growing on him, and partly so he had an excuse to look away from the way Jarvis was still glaring at him from his perch on Tony’s shoulders--shrugging one shoulder, “I dunno, he’s pretty cute.”

Tony gives him that look again, like Bucky’s done something precious, before he covers it up with what Bucky can tell is a fake scowl, “it’s an act, he’s a goblin.”

“Like father, like son,” Natasha grins, holding You in one arm while she scratches the top of Friday’s head with the other.

“Hey! You watch it, or I’m not going to show you what I made for you.”

Natasha makes a show of pretending to zip her lips, and Tony rolls his eyes with a grin, gesturing Bucky over to a table at the far end of the room.

“Come on, Buckaroo, Tasha wants goodies, so you might as well let me show off my genius.”

  
Bucky laughs, following along beside him, feeling a little bit like Dummy at the moment. Like a dumbass, sure, but one that’s warm, and safe, and one that’s _ wanted _ , and Bucky figures there are definitely worse things to be. So, he lets himself fall into step besides Tony, enjoying his enthusiasm and his bright eyes and wide smile, and he decides, at least for this one afternoon, he’s going to stop fighting the feeling, and he lets himself enjoy being enveloped in Tony’s bizarre, hectic, and _ wonderful _world.

* * *

Since I spend too much time thinking of these things, here are how I picture the cats:

[Dummy](https://images.app.goo.gl/CA9BgxsuyCzoZbL29) (Sphynx)

[Jarvis](https://images.app.goo.gl/dd5o7DoSHybwj59d8) (Oriental Shorthair)

[Butterfingers](https://images.app.goo.gl/1VLSwHGo9KCeX31fA) (Scottish Fold)

[You](https://images.app.goo.gl/WkfZyQVUhaqyx6LC6) (Ragdoll)

And the honorary cat, [Friday](https://images.app.goo.gl/ro61q8LoGh9oMRSL6) (Standard Poodle)

**Author's Note:**

> Fragolina--little strawberry (Italian)  
Solnyshko--sunshine (Russian)


End file.
